My mom couldn’t afford a wedding gift, so she gave me her old mustard-yellow velvet sofa.
I was embarrassed. My in-laws mocked it. I let my pride win—and I called my own mother “trash.” I made her take it back.
Eight days later, she passed away.
When I went to her flat, I saw the same sofa. I sat down to cry—and found a hidden compartment underneath. Inside were envelopes labeled “Arthur’s University Fund” and “Arthur’s First House,” filled with cash she had saved for decades. There was also a quilt she hand-stitched from my childhood clothes.
She hadn’t given me junk. She had hidden her life’s sacrifices inside the only thing she could afford to give.
I brought the sofa back home and replaced my expensive designer couch with it. That “ugly” sofa paid off my mortgage—and taught me that real wealth isn’t about brand names. It’s about love, sacrifice, and the parents who give us everything without asking for credit.
Don’t let pride blind you to the quiet ways someone loves you. One day, it might be too late to say thank you.
